OBSIDIAN GUARD BOOK 2

CHAPTER 10 THE INVITATION

POV Gideon

The steam in the bathroom was thick enough to choke a normal man, but I liked it. It felt intimate.

I had used one of my shirts to clean off Ollivander's seed from my lap and had discarded it on the floor, stained with the proof of what we'd done. I wasn't going to wash it. I wanted to keep it, to bury my face in it later and remember the way the little flower had broken under me.

I'd never felt this—this hunger. Jasmine used to talk about it like it was this grand thing, but I'd never understood it until just now. I still wanted more of him.

I stood up, keeping Ollivander's legs around my waist and cupping his butt. His head remained resting on my shoulder, breathing gently on my neck, and I brought us into the shower. My hands did not quite know what to do next, and I was trying this gentle thing, but that didn't come naturally.

In the end, I gave up and started being me again.

I stood behind him while the hot water hammered against his chest. I grabbed the soap and began to lather him up, my movements rough and demanding. I scrubbed his skin, my palms dragging over his ribs and the dip of his waist.

I'd never even been able to get an erection before, and now, I was so hard again it was actually starting to ache.

I pushed him forward, his palms slapping against the wet tiles as I pressed my weight into his back. I reached a soapy hand down, kneading his glutes, my fingers sinking into the soft muscle.

An idea, dark and curious, hit me. I added more soap to my hand and reached between his cheeks, finding the small, tight entrance. I slipped the tip of a finger inside.

Ollivander gasped, his body jolting, and I felt him go rigid and hard against the wall.

"Oh," I growled, the sound vibrating in my own chest. "You like that, don't you?"

I hooked an arm under his armpits, hauling his chest back against me for leverage, pinning him to the tile with my chest. "Touch yourself," I commanded, my voice a jagged edge.

"I want to hear the song your heart makes again as you let go."

I began to pump my finger inside him, my movements rhythmic and brutal. Being a Heart Weaver meant I didn't just hear his breathing; I heard the frantic, staccato pulse of his life-force.

The rougher I got, the better the song sounded, a beautiful, erratic mess of desire and panic. I rubbed my own length against his hip, the friction of skin on skin sending white-hot sparks through my brain.

I kept going, faster, harder, our breathing increasing and both of us letting out sounds of pleasure. Ollivander's hand was stroking himself ferociously while the other was against the wall, fingers curling and uncurling.

"Come with me, my flower," I yelled over the roar of the water. "One more time, just for me!"

Ollivander's back arched, his hand moving frantically on himself, and he came instantly. I followed a second later, releasing between us, my forehead pressed against the wet stone.

I stopped moving, but I left my finger inside him, feeling the way he puckered and pulsed around me, trying to hold onto the sensation.

"f**k," I breathed, my eyes closed. "I'll never get enough of you."

Ollivander was dead weight against my arm, completely spent. He tilted his head back, looking at me with glazed, exhausted eyes. "No man..." he whispered, his voice trembling. "No man has ever made me climax like that before."

The heat in my blood turned to ice in a heartbeat.

No man? The words felt like a physical blow. I pulled my finger out of him so fast he stumbled. I stepped back, the image of other men, faceless, nameless bastards, touching mine flashing through my mind like a fever. My heart, usually so quiet, started to thud with a jealous, ugly rage.

I washed myself off in a blur of motion, the water suddenly feeling too cold. I didn't look at him. I couldn't. "Shower's all yours," I said, my voice flat and dismissive. I stepped out, the steam trailing behind me like smoke.

POV Ollivander

The bathroom door clicked shut, leaving me alone with the sound of the water. My body was humming, my mind a fractured mess of the best pleasure I'd ever known and the sudden, sharp sting of Gideon's withdrawal.

I stayed under the spray until I could stand without my knees shaking, the weight of the morning pressing down on me.

When I stepped out, wrapped in a towel, Gideon was already fully dressed. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on his boots, his jaw set in a hard, angry line. He didn't look at me. The warmth of the bed was gone, replaced by a cold, professional wall I didn't know how to climb.

"I need to get back to work," I said softly, my heart sinking.

He didn't answer. He just tightened a lace until the leather groaned.

I looked at the desk, my mind racing. I couldn't let him stay mad, but I couldn't tell him why I was so practiced at this.

"A message came with the food if you didn't see it," I lied, my voice steady despite the flutter in my chest. I pointed to the note Valeryen had left on the desk.

"The Queen has a message for you. I... I should go. I have work."

I dressed quickly, my skin still tingling from his hands. I wanted to reach out to him, to tell him that he was the only one who mattered, but the look on his face stopped me.

If he knew who I really was, if he knew I was the Queen's eyes and ears, he wouldn't just be jealous. He'd be murderous.

I left briskly, the door thudding shut behind me. I didn't look back. I had gotten my one night of pleasure and release. I could live the rest of my life satisfied now and forget about him.

POV Gideon

The little flower was gone. The room felt cavernous without the sound of his ragged breathing, and the silence only made the jealousy rot faster in my gut.

No man has ever made me climax like that before. The words looped in my head like a heartbeat I couldn't stop. I wanted to find every ghost of his past and squeeze the life out of them.

I reached for the food tray, my movements jerky and sharp. I didn't want the fruit. I wanted something to break.

Tucked under a plate of spiced venison was a heavy, black vellum envelope. My pulse jumped. I ripped it open, the expensive paper fluttering in my thick fingers. The handwriting was a shock, elegant and sharp.

To the King of Ironspire,

Your shadow has grown too long, Alistair. You seek answers for the silence and the disappearance of your runts? You shall have them.

I find your siblings' presence in my city a tedious distraction. We shall negotiate the terms of our borders. You are summoned to the river crossing where the mountain road forks, the neutral ground halfway between our gates.

You will arrive in four days' time. You may bring four of your Family; any more will be viewed as an act of aggression. To ensure the safety of this parley, your Family must depart the Guard immediately. However, I require a guarantee.

Gideon of Ironspire shall remain behind. He will be my guest and my collateral. Should the meeting at the fork turn to blood, or should your steel leave its sheath, your brother will be the first to suffer the consequences of your arrogance.

—Queen of Obsidian Guard.

I folded the note, my hands trembling with a mix of fury and something that felt like a heartbeat. I didn't wait for my pulse to settle. I walked out of the suite, the heavy thud of my boots the only sound in the hallway, and found Jasmine waiting by the elevators.

She looked like she'd already tasted the tension in the air. I shoved the letter into her hand.

"The Queen has spoken," I grunted. "Take it to Alistair. Tell him I'm happy to stay and not to worry about me at all. He can do what he sees fit."

Jasmine smoothed the paper, her eyes scanning the regal script. Her expression shifted from curiosity to a sharp, cold concern.

"Gideon... you're staying? She's keeping you as a target. If the meeting at the fork goes badly, she'll end you before Alistair can even draw breath."

I let out a short, jagged laugh.

"Death has to come for everyone, Jas. Why not today? Why not in the richest city on the continent?"

I looked back toward the suite, the ghost of Ollivander's scent still clinging to my skin. "Besides, I'm not finished here. Not yet."

Jasmine looked at me for a long beat, her nostrils flaring as she caught the change in my scent, the lingering musk, and the sharp spike of my fixation.

An evil smirk graced her beautiful face. She knew full well.

"I don't like it," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"You're nearly off the rails, brother. Even for you. If I leave you here alone, you'll burn the city down to satisfy this new desire of yours."

"Maybe the city needs a bit of fire," I rumbled.

"I'm leaving Lucian behind," she stated. It wasn't a suggestion.

"He'll stay in the shadows. He'll be the ghost in your ear to bring you back when you go too far. If you try to do something that gets your head put on a pike before the meeting, he'll be the one to stop you."

I felt a surge of irritation. Lucian. The Shadow Weaver. I hated being watched like a child, but I looked at Jasmine's face and saw the genuine fear for my life. She cared, and so did Lucian.

I let out a heavy, reluctant sigh. "Fine. Leave the shadow. But tell him to stay out of my way unless the Queen herself is holding the blade to my throat."

"Alright, thank you," Jasmine said, leaning in to kiss my cheek. It was a rare, soft gesture from a woman who usually breathed out lust and manipulation.

"Try to stay in one piece, Gideon. Alistair will have my head if you come back a corpse."

She winked and turned, heading out to gather the others and go home to prepare. I was alone now. Or, as alone as one could be with a Shadow Weaver lurking in the corners.

I turned back toward the room, my mind already drifting back to the little flower and his Goddess, and when he could see both or either of them again.

A shiver ran down my spine just thinking about how he could have them for the next four days, and I didn't want to waste a moment.